


201 Swamp Dragons

by Elsinore_and_Inverness



Category: Discworld
Genre: #Book: The Last Hero, #Humanities major hang ups, #Prayer is like a business c-mail, #comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 06:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsinore_and_Inverness/pseuds/Elsinore_and_Inverness
Summary: “He thought we’d lost the dragons,” Sybil explained.
Relationships: Sybil Ramkin/Havelock Vetinari/Samuel Vimes
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	201 Swamp Dragons

He didn’t pray. He actually couldn’t remember ever praying although he was fairly certain he must have done it at some point or other. Possibly to make some point or other in the dorm room at the Guild. 

But this was dire. The world was saved, Leonard would be safely occupied for a month or two, but Lord Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork was terrified. 

He knelt beside his narrow wood-framed bed and put his hands together. 

“Um. Hello.” That wasn’t right, but he couldn’t think of a better way to begin. “I’m paging Zephyrus, Flatulus, Aniger and, um, Offler, I think. Please protect the dragons of the Sunshine Sanctuary, Morphic Street, Ankh-Morpork and ensure their safe return. I’ll burn some bread for you tomorrow morning... I’m certain bread is a godly substance. Thank you for not blowing up the world. In attesa di una vostra cortese riposta, porgo i miei cordiali saluti.” 

That ought to do it. If it didn’t it was already too late.

The next morning he went down to Scoone Avenue, rehearsing an apology and bracing himself for... he didn’t know what exactly. If he’d been told “it’s Wuffles or the world,” he would be devastated but not angry. But he rarely felt angry. Somehow anger had ended up on the far side of rational thought. Sam Vimes took this as evidence that he was “repressed, depressed and overstressed” and Vetinari had pointed out that thinking coolly in the face of injustice made him the right man for the job and he should ask Captain Carrot how often he experienced anger. But if he had looked after _two-hundred_ dogs, animals that been ill and abused, and someone that you trusted and liked had sacrificed all of them, well, even Death, who was not a dog person and had no glands at all would be angry about that. 

And Sybil loved dragons more than he loved dogs. She had to because dragons were far more unpleasant. 

He knocked on the door. Willikins answered it. Vetinari knew Willikins to be a man of the kind of compulsive violence he was judgmental of, and if Sybil had been cursing his name, he didn’t like his chances.

“Here to see the Duchess,” Vetinari said.

Lady Sibyl came down the hall with a strange silvery dragon draped around her shoulders. 

“Havelock, do come inside. We’re just having breakfast.”

“Did the dragons—“

“You know, it’s the strangest thing. We send two-hundred dragons. Two-hundred and twenty-three came back.”

Vetinari’s shoulders dropped with relief. “They’re from the moon.”

“Dragons on the moon! How wonderful! I always thought they weren’t suited to this environment.”

“They’ve taken some rocks back. Ponder thinks maybe the moon was formed from debris when the Fifth Elephant crashed into the Disc.”

“You really mustn’t feel bad about not understanding engineering and physical sciences,” she said. 

“It’s not that I don’t understand, I just—“

Sybil looked at him compassionately. “Oh, you were worrying. Poor dear.”

“Would you have forgiven me if the dragons hadn’t made it?” 

“Forgiven you? Leonard couldn’t have adequately informed you of the risks, not with the fate of the world hanging in the balance.” Lady Sibyl knew it was insecurity and not willful ignorance that made Havelock look down on the wizards. She also knew he’d somehow made philosophy and poison symbolism see him through degrees in alchemy and applied pathology. “Come through to the kitchen and have something to eat.”

She opened her arms, inviting a hug. Vetinari felt like he had spent all of the previous day being patronized for his education and a hug wasn’t how he would have preferred to be comforted. He would rather have a debate over some complex and inscrutable matter of public policy. But Sibyl was kind and sensible and he didn’t get much of that in his daily life. He hugged her, avoiding the dragon on her right shoulder.

Vimes, who had definitely not been eavesdropping from the next room, chose this moment to emerge into the hallway. “Well, well, what have we here,” he said, smiling.

“I’m a cold, absolute tyrant,” Vetinari said. Sybil wasn’t wearing her wig and his cheek brushed against her short hair.

“And my wife is keeping you warm, eh?”

“He thought we’d lost the dragons,” Sybil explained.

“Will you eat turkey sausage?” Vimes asked. 

“I really should be getting back.” 

“See you at eleven?”

“Yes. And if you’ve got any unsolvable problems, I’d be much obliged.”


End file.
